


Red Eye

by highest_water



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 20:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5019727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highest_water/pseuds/highest_water
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long distance AU. People say things get easier with time. They would be wrong. Each time they say goodbye it gets a little harder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red Eye

It has always been the worst part. Head tucked into his chest willing herself not to cry. Emma Swan does not cry. She bunches his jacket in her fists as she tries to commit the way he feels to memory. Hoping it will be enough to get through through the days until she sees him again.

 

27

 

27 days since she has last seen him. Okay, technically she has seen him. They Skype and FaceTime wherever and whenever possible. And technology is great. She doesn't know where they would be without it and yet nothing - _nothing_ \- compares to seeing him in person. Hearing his words whispered into her ear. Feeling his warmth.

 

She comes to view the airport with trepidation. She mistrusts it for the havoc it wreaks with her emotions. The goodbyes are so painful. The reunions like coming up for air. She has never been one for public displays of affection and yet she runs into his arms each time. The literal running, not in the metaphorical sense. She couldn't care less who stares. Who hollers and whoops as he dips her back and kisses her soundly. Who hears their whispered - or not so whispered - I love yous.

 

In the grand scheme of things, 27 days isn't even that long. It wouldn't even make the top five. Perhaps it is that she should of seen him on day 15 (Storms in Seattle. All flights cancelled) and then again on day 21 (She had been called to give evidence in the court. 4 days. No escape.) For whatever reason, this time, this time it churns up her insides more than most.

 

She knows he won't be there when she finally turns her key in the lock at the end of the day. Knows she won't be greeted by his freaking perfect smile, but that doesn't stop her from feeling the disappointment.

 

She toes off her boots and sighs at the thought of putting her feet up. Yes, that makes her sound like a grandma. Frankly, after the day from hell she doesn't care.

 

Sometimes it was 6 days. Those were the goodbyes that didn't leave her crying on the way home. The crying in the safety of her own car she could deal with but the crying on the plane was always embarrassing.

 

Irrespective of how many times it had happened before.

 

And, unfortunately, how many times it would happen again.

 

She had lost count of the number of times someone had mistaken her for a nervous flyer. People were good really. Reassuring smiles and the occasional kindly hand squeeze. Even a few pity purchases of miniature whiskeys from the drinks trolley.

 

People might be good but that didn't stop her from getting irrationally irritated by couples in the street casually ignoring each other. Squabbling in the line at Starbucks. Picking a fight about what to cook for dinner. Didn't they know how lucky they were? To be able to walk through the door at the end of the day and have them _there_. To actually need to have a side of the bed because someone was occupying the other. To be able to kiss them goodnight. To be in the same freaking time zone.

 

She had vented such frustrations over Skype one evening. He had smiled that knowing smile of his that made his eyes crinkle at the corners and the dimples in his cheeks flash.

 

"They're not us, Swan."

 

Easy. Simple. Her anger quelled in four words in a way that only Killian Jones seemed to know how to do. She huffed out a sigh. He was right (charming idiot).

 

What they had was different. Certainly different to anything she had ever experienced before. But she also got the feeling _they_ were different. It was hard, their relationship being carried out in two different cities. Two different time zones. But they - Emma and Killian - were so _right_.

 

It should have scared her. Running would have been her go to. She excelled at cutting them loose. Things scared her - his job, her job. But what they had didn't. 

 

Initially, she thought that the whole long distance thing would suit her. She doesn't like to be crowded - overwhelmed. Generally speaking, she needs highways of space (often with a planned exit route in mind). She knew she _liked_ Killian from the get go. Who wouldn't? Insanely handsome idiot that he is. But more than that, she felt she could trust him. So, in theory, the whole long distance thing should have been the perfect fit.

 

She trusted in his commitment to her but got to live her own life still.

 

How wrong she had been.

 

Absence might make the heart grow fonder but it also sucks. It turns you in to someone who wishes your life away counting down until you next see them. It turns you in to someone who sets alarms on your phone for when he wakes up so you can say good morning. It turns you in to someone who slips out on dinners with friends because it is the only available five minutes you both can make that day.

 

She had teased him mercilessly when she had found one of those silly countdown apps on his phone. He had altered the name of his so that it was a countdown to 'Swan Time'. She changed it to 'I struggle to count backwards without technical support.'

 

She had one on her own phone the next time he visited.

 

His eyebrow had arched teasingly and he opened his mouth to no doubt make some witty remark. She had launched herself on him to successfully distract him. What other option did she have? (Also, that eyebrow thing he did was just plain unfair. Handsome fool.)

 

She strolled to the fridge to see what was edible for dinner before plumping for cereal. Today had finished her off. Open packet, shake, pour milk. That was about all she could muster.

 

She tucked her legs up underneath her on the sofa and began flicking through Netflix. It was twenty minutes before she was expecting his call. They had arranged to FaceTime. For once, she was wishing it was audio call only. She fully expected a full five minutes of him going wild upon seeing her shiner. Oh, and the charming cut on above her eyebrow to accompany it.

 

David and his partner had been bringing in a particularly rowdy perp as she was signing off on some paperwork at the front desk. Said perp had then taken it upon himself to bite Graham and in the shock of the event managed to hit David in the neck with his cuffed hands. Emma had leapt over the desk to pull him off David and was gifted an elbow in the eye. The cut a curtesy of the chain cuff catching her.

 

It honestly looked worse than it was. She had been thoroughly checked out my the medics. A couple of stitches. A lot of ice. _Rest_. They had said. Well, if by rest they meant spending the afternoon compiling evidence against the ass who had hit her, then yes, rest she had.

 

Her phone vibrated on the cushion next to her - _Killian_ _Jones_. Damn it. Her heart soared just a little bit each time.

 

She dragged her finger across the screen to accept and braced herself for his telling off.

 

His face lit up when she answered. His grin always reminding her of a child's. It was so unaffected. Even now she sometimes found it hard to believe that it was all for her. His happiness. His smiles.

 

"Swan! I managed to get away a - what the hell happened?"

 

It was almost funny really. How quickly the grin slipped from his face. More so how his face suddenly grew very large as he moved closer to his phone to try and get a better look.

 

A small chuckle escaped her lips, "That won't work you know."

 

"Then bloody help me and show me," he grumbled as his face swam back into focus. His words were frustrated but she saw the fear and the pain in his eyes.

 

"Hey," she soothed, "look at me." She waited for his eyes to stop roaming the bruising and cuts and focus on her eyes instead. "I'm okay. Okay?"

 

"Okay," he breathed out on a shaky sigh.

 

She dutifully moved the phone to give him a closer look.

 

After much reassurance that she had been checked out by the medics properly, that the ' _bloody moron_ ' was facing charges and that she had been cleared to sleep alone, she had teased him about going in search of a bedmate to keep an eye on her for the night. It had coaxed a laugh from him but the worry remained evident in the crease between his brow.

 

She itched to smooth it out with her thumb and kiss away his concern.

 

She understood it all too well though. She had gotten used to him appearing with various cuts and bruises from work. They had made a deal to not hide and sugarcoat events at work so she had spent many nights with her gut twisted in knots as he regaled the latest fire the crew had attended.

Sometimes his bravery astounded her. She knew Killian. Knew how good of a man he was but it was something else to hear of him in action (knowing full well that he was being modest about his actions as well). It was no wonder that the guys at the station would move hell or high water for him.

 

He had their backs. He set the tone. He went above and beyond as their lieutenant.

 

She finds out the next day that he calls David immediately after hanging up with her.

 

Typical Killian.

 

He checks that David does not need to sleep on her floor to check for concussion. Checks that theperp will get what is coming to him.

 

They do manage to get flights booked for him next week. Thursday night through Sunday. 2 whole days and a few scrappy hours either side.

 

She'll take them.

 

She'll take anything.

 

He tries for an earlier flight on the Thursday but he says the seats are gone by the time he gets to the checkout. He'll land at 8.30pm instead of 5pm. She allows herself a small moment to mourn those 3 and a half lost hours. Yes, she has reached that point. She says she can do the weekend following. Could get the redeye out on the Friday. He puts the flight in his basket and books that too.

 

She tries to stop him, quickly logging on to the site herself, but he theatrically taps purchase on his tablet. 'Ha,' he smirks, 'I bested you this time love.'

 

'Just this once,' she replies. She attempts to arch her eyebrow as he does when he's being a cocky bastard.

 

She looks more like a Picasso painting gone wrong.

 

He tells her so.

 

\--------

 

Work is nothing short of exhausting the following week and she's oddly grateful. She's barely spoken to Killian all week. Their text conversations sprawl across the days but even then the replies come hours later on both sides.

 

**'I'm picking up a couple of extra shifts at the station so I can get the time next weekend.'**

 

He hadn't been joking. Killian was pretty much living at the station. Emma fussed and worried. Was he having enough rest? Was he too exhausted to concentrate at an call out?

 

He tried to ease her fears. "Worry not, love. Liam is keeping close tabs on me." He cast his eyes around him before adding (loudly) that his elder brother is an, "Insufferable arse". Liam's hand promptly emerged in the frame as he clipped Killian around the head.

 

"That's Captain Jones to you," he retorted as he popped his head down to smile at Emma. "I just don't know how you put up with my little brother, Miss Swan."

 

His voice may have been stern but he carried the same Jones twinkle in his eyes. He through a comically stern and serious face Killian's way before stalking off.

 

Killian often referred to he and his brother as 'A comedy of errors', yet Emma saw nothing but good when she looked upon the Jones brothers. Fiercely loyal, fiercely brave, fiercely stubborn too come to think of it. 

 

It did make her feel somewhat better knowing that Liam would be looking out for him. She had grown immensely fond of the elder Jones brother and his wife, Elsa. When she was in Seattle they often got together for dinner or drinks. Even one camping trip that she would rather forget about.

 

(Killian swore he hadn't realised the torch light would cast their shadows on the tent wall facing Liam and Elsa's tent quite so...graphically.)

 

After 6 months, the question of living arrangements started popping up. Not from Killian. No, just from people who felt the need to enquire. Colleagues from work, the owner of the crêpe stand they visit when he's in Boston, her well meaning but nosey neighbour. It's these periphery people who ask. Not David or Mary Margaret, Ruby or Graham.

 

They _know_ Emma. They know there is more to it than that.

 

This - her job at the station, her well furnished apartment, her friends and her David (Killian's moniker for him. 'He's your family Swan. He's your David.' He'd shrugged his shoulders. As if it explained it all.) It was the first time she has ever had such security in her life. But more than security - a home.

 

She felt safe and valued and _loved_. It had taken her a while to except these things but apparently David surrounds himself with people as doggedly determined and optimistic as he is. Mary Margaret, Ruby, Graham, they had all wormed their way into her heart too. She belonged.

 

She just happened to belong in two places. Her home in Boston and with Killian in Seattle.

 

Killian didn't ask because he knew. Knew Emma - 'Open book love.' Knew how important, and how rare,  such security was in her life. He understood what Boston meant to Emma and in turn she knew what his life in Seattle meant to him.

 

Even now, her heart tugged thinking about the first time Killian had told her of his family.  How it had been he and Liam since he was 13. How Liam had fought tooth and nail to keep his little brother. The two of them, alone in a foreign country.  How Liam had made a career for himself to support them, then made a name for himself as one of the most respected fire captains in the state. How young Killian had wanted nothing more than to follow in his brother's footsteps - 'He's my bloody hero.' She'd squeezed his hand tight. Killian and Liam. Liam and Killian. They were a duo. Until they were a three.

 

Killian adored Elsa - his brother's wife. The sister he'd never had. She was as protective over Killian as Liam was. Anyone who was fooled by Elsa's angelic appearance was an idiot. She was intelligent, loyal and when angered, just plain fierce.

 

Emma had discovered a new found appreciation for Elsa when early in her relationship with Killian she had turned up on his doorstep one morning with dishes of home made food, a pair of running shoes for Emma and a scolding for her brother in law. Killian had been pretty depressed all weekend. He had lost a young victim in a fire. Blamed himself for not being able to get to them. Had been dragged out the building himself by Robin as he refused to leave.

 

Emma had been at somewhat of a loss when she arrived. He was clearly happy to see her, but she was new to this. The relationship. A relationship with a member of the fire service.

 

Elsa showed up and kicked them both out of his house, 'You're going for a run because you need to clear your head. Emma is going with you,' she'd said as she dropped a pair of her running shoes into Emma's arms, 'because this beautiful woman flew across the country to spend the weekend with you and I am sure that your not so charming company last night has left her wanting to run off some steam too. She will also, likely, be able to able to keep up with you and possibly beat you which will do well to remind you, Killian Jones, that you are not invincible. A hero you are, but you cannot save them all. Wallowing will prevent you from saving any more and will make it very hard for the people who love you to do so.' Elsa had fixed Killian with an icy blue stare until he had turned around and headed upstairs to change.

 

Emma had dutifully followed.

 

Upon coming back downstairs, Elsa was busy whipping up the beginnings of an impressive looking breakfast. 'How did you know I run?' Emma had found herself asking as she tied up the borrowed laces. 'I figured with your job that you would have to keep fit, but honestly? Contrary to to his behaviour the past 24 hours, my little brother talks about you non-stop.' Elsa feigned an unnervingly convincing British accent before continuing,  "Swan this and Emma that. She's a bloody brilliant runner. She can easily keep up with me and you should have seen chase this guy down.'

 

Emma had never been so diligent tying a shoe lace in order to hide her blush. Her heart was hammering against her chest. Elsa couldn't hear that, surely? When she stood up, Elsa just gave her a knowing smile. 'Family breakfast when you get back. I'll call Liam over. Now go beat our Killian's sorry little ass.'

 

Our Killian. Family. That's what it came down to. She had been welcomed into the Jones clan from that breakfast onwards.

 

Killian had been the first guy David had ever warmed to on the first meeting and now the two of them had some sort of terribly cute bromance for which Emma teased them about mercilessly. Their friendship meant the world to her though. He was 'her David' after all.

 

And Killian's family was soon to be growing. Elsa was 6 months pregnant. Killian was ecstatic about becoming an uncle. He already had a collection of gifts for the 'wee lass' stacked up in his wardrobe.

 

So the periphery people who asked, 'When is that man of yours moving here?' or 'Have you started thinking about the move to the West Coast?' annoyed the hell out of her. But that didn't mean she didn't think about it.

 

(It was all she thought about some nights when she couldn't sleep for missing him.)

 

They'd skirted around the conversation several times. Killian knew her fears. Didn't want to scare her or make her run. He'd once painted a vision of their future. Sailing out on a boat together in the day and coming home, to _their_ home, to cook dinner together. Waking up together and starting it all over again. Together. That was the key.

 

Now, 18 months in to the relationship, she was ready for the conversation. She was ready for the move. Killian was close to further promotion at work, he was about to become an uncle and as much as she adored her apartment, Killian had a house. A beautiful house which he and Liam had fixed up together. A house with a back yard and space for his niece to stay.

 

Space for their own family one day. The thought alone made her heart swell.

 

She loves this man. She wants to be with him. He will never ask her to make the move and leave her home but she is choosing to. She chooses him, them. Emma and Killian.

 

\--------

 

Thursday finally rolls around. She has butterflies in her stomach like a giddy teenager.

 

David receives a phone call from Mary Margaret at five. Something about her car breaking down and having a stack of books to mark that she can't safely carry to the bus. Could David come and get her? He apologises profusely to Emma, knowing that she was waiting to fly out the door at one minute past the hour.

 

He also blushes. A rarity for David and he's somewhat hesitant to meet her eye. Emma does not want to dwell on what the true nature of the call may have been. She knew David and Mary Margaret were trying to start a family so although she wanted nothing more than to go home and change and buy dinner before heading to the airport, she puts on a smile and pushes David out the station door.

 

He calls her his 'saviour' which earns him an eye roll and a thwack on the arm. David isn't supposed to finish until seven. It still gives her plenty of time to get to the airport. They could grab take out on the way home from Granny's instead. She doesn't need much of an excuse for a Granny's grilled cheese.

 

It takes her twice as long to get home as normal. She gathers it is something to do with a produce van overturning when she rolls down the window (yes-manually) to ask the passenger in the car alongside her. He uses language much more colourful than that but wins Emma over when he hands her a Twinkie through the window.

 

She kicks off her boots when she finally gets through the door and heads straight for her bedroom to change into something that she hasn't worn for the last twelve hours.  7.45. On a good run, she can get to the airport in 25 minutes but with the tragic state of the traffic out there she doesn't want to leave it to chance. Killian's flight doesn't land until 8.32. If she leaves now, she'll have no problem. Quickly pulling on a fresh pair of jeans and a silk blouse, she throws a few necessities into her purse and heads back to the lounge.

 

It never fails to strike her as strange that she feels the tingle of nerves in her stomach each time they are reunited. Until she sees him, until she can feel his warmth beneath her palms, she never quite feels as if their reunion is secured.

 

It's not that she doubts Killian (although she knows that if she tried to explain it to anyone that it would seem that way), it's just that she is programmed to doubt good things. Good things in the life of Emma Swan at least. And her relationship with Killian is the _best_ of things.

 

A knock at the door jolts her from her thoughts. She angrily runs a hand through her hair. She really could do without her slightly seedy neighbour from down the hall needing 'a cup of sugar' right now. She yanks open the door with more force than is strictly necessary and her jaw falls open in the most inelegant way.

 

She is greeted by his smile. His charming, giddy smile that he saves just for her.

 

She is momentarily stunned until she regains her faculties and throws her arms around him. She snuggles into his embrace and feels herself relax in the comfort of his arms. The comfort of home.

 

She presses a kiss to the spot on his chest where her head is resting. She'll tell him off later for not wearing enough layers in this weather. She shouldn't be able to have access to his t-shirt, let alone his chest. He is somehow still warm though. She jokes that she flies across the country for that reason. Bills are so expensive these days, it's cheaper to go see him and steal his warmth. 

 

He mutters a quiet, 'Surprise, love.' into her hair and her heart clenches at the emotion in his voice. She quickly pulls back, panicking that he has altered his plans because something is wrong but then she sees the happiness in his features as he smiles down at her and her worries slide away.

 

'What are you doing...How are you...?' She shakes her head trying to process how he is standing here at her door as he lets out a soft chuckle.

 

"I got the earlier flight,' he leans in to press a kiss against her forehead.

 

'But you said that the seats had all gone...'

 

He scratches behind his ear as is his way when embarrassed, 'Well,' his cheeks turn pink, 'I may have been withholding the truth there.'

 

She whacks him on the chest. Not hard (Well, maybe a little hard. Killian rubs the spot absent mindlessly). 'Why didn't you tell me?'

 

'I wanted it to be a surprise,' he smiles and tightens his embrace around her waist. 'Dave kindly came to collect me in his vessel and dropped me off.'

 

'I knew something was off with him!' Emma is oddly reassured her super power lie-detector hasn't gone off piste. 'I thought he'd had a booty call from Mary-Margaret.'

 

Killian's hearty laugh warms her from the inside. It slips down her throat and spreads through her bloodstream. She knows they must look a right pair, standing on her doorstep smiling at one another in the way that they are. That's one thing to be said for long-distance relationships - you don't take the small things for granted. Even the mundane.

 

The thought must cross Killian's mind too. 'Well, love, shall you be inviting me in tonight or am I to be kept outside your door?'

 

She rolls her eyes at his ridiculous use of the English language. Always the wordsmith (' _Don't fault my extensive vocabulary Swan. I'm broadening your peasant mind.'_ ) Okay, that time she might have hit him hard.

 

She presses her lips to his and then retreats from the doorway back into the apartment.

 

He doesn't move to follow.

 

'Not going to give me a hand with my luggage, Swan? I am but a weary traveller.' He pouts at her. He thinks it adorable. She calls him an idiot. He lifts his familiar navy and tan holdall from beside his feet and passes it through to her.

 

'Surely this is 'bad form',' she mutters as she carries it to the lounge and drops it by the side of sofa. It's heavier than usual too. He likes to travel light and he has a drawer of necessities at her place anyhow.

 

'Alas, love,' he calls from the hallway, 'I think it's called sharing the load.'

 

Sharing the load? Her brow creases in puzzlement. What is he talking about?

 

She turns around to find out and stops short.

 

Her heart jumps frantically in her chest.

 

She just about hears him softly click the door shut behind him over the pulse through her veins. He is standing in her apartment gazing at her expectantly.

 

There is a large suitcase either side of him.

 

Killian is the champion of light travelling. Why would he need suitcases? Why had it needed to be a surprise?

 

She must have been standing there for longer than she thought. 'Love?' he questions softly. She hadn't noticed that he had moved to stand before her. His palm cups her cheek and she meets his gaze and then she just _knows_.

 

'Killian,' she begins, 'how long are you staying for?'

 

'As long as you will have me.' And it's the hesitancy in his eyes and the way his voice catches that disintegrates whatever semblance of a wall remained around her heart. And she knows that if she said she wasn't ready yet, if she asked him to be patient, then he would get back on the plane on Tuesday and not hold it against her.

 

Her voice is steady and sure when she replies, 'How about forever?'

 

She isn't sure who moves first, but they are kissing then. She tangles her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck to pull him closer. It's a kiss full of promises and love but that doesn't stop the tear from tumbling out of her eye. It's the reason why it does.

 

He must feel it on his cheek as he slowly (reluctantly) pulls back and kisses it away. She swipes under her eyes to stop the damn from bursting.

 

'I never cried before you.'

 

'Good tears though I am hoping?'

 

She laughs, 'Yes.' She kisses him. 'I love you.'

 

'Bloody good job too.' He grins as he throws her over the arm of the sofa to land on the cushions. 'I hate packing. It was quite the chore.'

 

She'd love to retort with a witty comeback but he holds himself above her on his elbows and kisses her neck and coherent thoughts temporarily leave her.

 

\--------

 

Later, when they're curled up on the sofa with a half eaten take away pizza on the coffee table and the remains of a bottle of champagne, (His splurge. That's why the holdall was so sodding heavy. ' _I only get to move in with my beautiful lady one time, Swan._ ') she asks him how they have ended up here, in 'their' apartment.

 

She listens as he tells her that he'd been considering it for a while. That he's got two interviews lined up this week at firehouses in the city. She fusses that he was about to be promoted in Seattle. He assures her that he's 'bloody good' at his job and will find other opportunities. She learns that one of the firehouses is two blocks away from the station and that David has put a good word in for him with the Captain. She mentally notes to thank David and that he can take all the booty calls that he wants.

 

She asks about the house, his home, that he lovingly restored with Liam. He tells her he's renting it to Elsa's little sister and her boyfriend. They're moving in at the end of the month. He's pleased it will still be in the family and it means he doesn't need to worry about putting his furniture into storage or selling it.

 

Emma is lying with her head on his chest. She crosses her palms over his heart and lifts her head up to rest her chin on them. 'You love that house,' she states with sympathy.

 

'Aye, but I love you more.'

 

If possible, she falls a little bit more in love with this man who gets her in a way that nobody else does. Who understands that her questions are not her doubting him, or looking for an out but allowing her time to process - and to accept - that she is someone's everything. That she matters, that she is wanted. That he chooses her.

 

'How did Liam take it?'

 

He speaks with the same affection that he always does when he speaks of Liam. 'He was delighted. Happy that I was finally getting my life together. He loves you too.' He squeezes her a little tighter. 'I think, well, I think he's actually proud of me.'

 

She leans up press a kiss to his lips. A soft smile spreads on her face, 'Smart man, that Liam Jones.'

 

'And what of his younger brother?' Killian asks, smirking. 'He's a dashing rapscallion I hear?'

 

She barks out a laugh that is far from ladylike, 'Oh definitely dashing but I hear his rapscallion days are behind him.'

 

'I can still buckle my swash with the best of them!' He tickles her mercilessly in his mock outrage until he has her pinned beneath him. He looks down at her with such love.

 

She has to pinch herself to remember that this is it now. She can come home to him each night. He'll come through her door - their door - at the end of the day. She can snuggle up to him like this on their sofa any god damn time she chooses. And, gods above, she can kiss him whenever she wants.

 

She does.

 

'You know,' he begins, 'of all the things. It was when you had that black eye that I felt it the most.'

 

His brow furrows as if he recalls his anger at the situation. She waits quietly for him to go on as his fingers absentmindedly play with the ends of her hair.

 

'It was daft really. Of all the things in our lives when I have wanted to be by your side, the one that cut the deepest was a longing to hold a bag of frozen peas to your face.' He looks as surprised by the fact as she is. 'The heart is a mysterious thing,' he whispers as kisses her at the juncture of her neck and collar bone.

 

'I'm glad mine isn't too much of a mystery to you,' she whispers. He kisses away the vulnerability in her voice until she is glad that she said it aloud.

 

'Do you really think I even _own_ a bag of frozen peas?'

 

'All that's about to change now I'm living here,' he grins. 'One bag of frozen peas at a time, I will conquer your fear of vegetables.'

 

'It's not a fear,' she grumbles.

 

'Call it what you will, darling' he smiles and presses a kiss to her temple.

 

She looks up at him and holds his face in between her palms. She traces the pads of her thumbs over his stubble, 'Welcome home.'

 

\--------

 

 

He gets his wish three weeks later. Of all the stupid things, she trips up the curb outside of their apartment block and manages to sprain her ankle. Emma Swan, badass cop, is felled by a humble curb.

 

It hurts like hell and she uses some rather salty language on the way up to the 5th floor.

 

She hops over to the sofa and eases off her boots and thermal socks. She's systematically been buying Killian a warm item of clothing each time she goes shopping. A maroon beanie hat, a check scarf and some thick woollen socks which have spent more time on her feet than his. It still does something to her insides when she folds his laundry with hers. Sees his shoes besides hers at the door.

 

Inspecting the damage, she can already see an angry bruise blossoming on her left ankle and lets out a groan, knowing it will consign her to paperwork for the foreseeable future.

 

In all honesty, she flips on the TV and sits there feeling somewhat sorry for herself until Killian comes through the door twenty minutes later. He looks tired after his shift but smiles when he spots her on the sofa.

 

'Notice anything?' he hums as he slowly (painstakingly slowly) unwinds the check scarf from around his neck. It's the first time he has actually worn a garment suitable for the winter weather.

 

Emma furrows her brows as she studies him. 'Hmmm, nope don't think so,' she teases.

 

Mischief dances in his eyes as he strides across the room to where she is sat and lassos her with said scarf. She can't help the laughter which bubbles out of her as he leans down to kiss her.

 

'Hi,' he grins when he pulls back.

 

'Hi'

 

He arranges the scarf around her neck and she inhales his scent. Warm and strong and home. He shucks out of his jacket and turns to go and hang it up. The man is painstakingly neat and Emma is doing her best to provide as much mess as possible for him to tidy.

 

She'd teased him about it. Told him she thought he enjoyed organising her haphazard approach. He'd thrown her over his shoulder and smuggled her to their bedroom before showing her her how being meticulous has it's benefits.

 

As he returns to the lounge he spots her foot propped up on a cushion on the coffee table.

 

'What happened?'

 

He perches on the sofa beside her, suddenly serious.

 

She cups his cheek, 'I'm fine, honestly.' He searches her eyes and seems to relax a little when he realises that her words are truth.

 

She realises his question remains unanswered and mumbles out, 'I tripped up a curb.'

 

'Up?'

 

'Yes,' she huffs, 'and it hurts like hell.'

 

'Then my time has come!'

 

He's up and off the sofa in a heartbeat and disappears in to the kitchen. She can hear him rummaging for something and sincerely hopes he brings back some rum to numb the pain.

 

When he reappears he looks like a kid on Christmas morning. Eyes sparkling, an expression of sheer happiness on his face.

 

A bag of frozen peas in his hand.

 

She rolls her eyes but her heart's not in it when he kneels beside her and carefully assessed her ankle with such care.

 

'This will be cold.'

 

She flinches when he first applies some pressure with the bag. 'You're not supposed to look so damn happy about it.'

 

'Sorry love, it'll help though.'

 

She sits contented as he moves the bag slightly to reach more of the bruising. He is entirely focused on the job in hand. That is, tending to his clumsy girlfriend.

 

'Is it worth it then?' She asks, recalling their conversation from the night he moved in. How he had wanted nothing more than to look after her, bag of peas in hand.

 

He looks up at her then and smiles.

 

'Always.'

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Characters belong to the creators of Once Upon A Time


End file.
